The Wisdom of When to Share Yourself
Not everyone deserves a front-row seat to your life.
I once watched a newly hired executive learn this in his first month on the job. He was in an important strategy meeting, the kind where people quietly gauge one another’s judgment, steadiness, and emotional presence. Midway through the conversation, hoping to build trust, he shared that he had recently begun managing a chronic autoimmune condition.
He spoke with sincerity. He wanted his colleagues to understand why some mornings were harder, why he might occasionally need a pause, why he navigated pressure a little differently.
His truth was real -- but the awkwardness in the room became palpable.
It was not unkindness.
It was not disapproval.
It was unreadiness.
They simply didn’t know him well enough to know how to respond. His intended authenticity landed instead as discomfort.
Later he said quietly, “I thought being transparent would help. I did not expect it to make them uneasy.” That moment revealed a deeper truth: it is not always wise to share everything.
Yet, we live in a culture that romanticizes full transparency.
Media outlets often amplify personal stories designed to provoke. Social platforms reward emotional confession as performance. In this environment, it’s easy to confuse disclosure with connection and visibility with depth.
So how do we know what to share—and when?
Appropriate vulnerability is the art of knowing when, to whom, and how much to tell. Intimacy grows from tested trust, small moments of steadiness that demonstrate someone can hold what is tender in you.
This is why Brené Brown reminds us:
“Share with people who have earned the right to hear your story.”
People who show readiness tend to:
Listen without prying
Hold your small disclosures without retelling them
Respond with steadiness rather than surprise
Ask thoughtful questions that honor boundaries.
These are the people capable of holding more. This is where discernment and vulnerability meet.
Discerning wisely is a form of self-respect, a way of honoring your interior life by offering it only where it can be received with care.
Without discernment, we overshare and feel bruised.
Yet, without vulnerability, we share little and feel unseen.
Healthy intimacy requires both.
When we choose wisely, our relationships shift. Vulnerability lands softly instead of awkwardly. Closeness grows without force. We begin to trust our own sense of timing, knowing that when the right truth is offered to the right person at the right moment, connection expands with ease.
Discerning who should hear your tender concerns is not guardedness.
It is scaffolding for intimacy -- the structure that allows closeness to deepen without collapsing under uneven weight.
We see that depth is not created by intensity but by pacing, not by pouring everything out but by offering what the relationship has the capacity to hold.
Judy Brown describes this beautifully:
“What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs,
a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surely as a pail of water would.”
Connection works the same way. We need to match our willingness to share with another person's capacity to receive it.
Discernment is simply tending the fire well.
What You Can Do
If a deeper truth has been tugging at you, something you have considered sharing with someone, pause long enough to ask yourself, Has this person earned the right to know this part of me?
1. Observe how they treat others’ stories. If they mishandle someone else’s vulnerability, they will eventually mishandle yours.
2. Offer a small truth first. Notice how they respond, with care, curiosity, discomfort, or indifference. Safety reveals itself early.
3. Look for consistency, not intensity. Emotionally safe people show up steadily and depth is earned gradually. Honor the pace of the deepening connection.
4. Protect what is still tender. Your interior life is not public property. Offer it where care has been demonstrated, not merely assumed.
*******
And that’s The Gist of It™: insights on relational courage — the courage to know and be known by others.
These practices help relationships breathe rather than tighten, deepen rather than fracture.
Thank you for reading. If this resonated with you, I’d be honored if you’d forward it to someone who might appreciate it. They can subscribe below:
Marilyn Gist, PhD